


Lily of the Valley

by SpaceDarling_and_GrumpyCat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Assassin!Keith, Attempted Murder, Blood, Cook!Hunk, Eventual Galra!Keith, Hurt/Comfort, Informant!Pidge, M/M, Minor Violence, Romance, prince!lance, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceDarling_and_GrumpyCat/pseuds/SpaceDarling_and_GrumpyCat
Summary: Keith was satisfied with his life. He had a job that kept food on the table, and he had his friends. Heck, he even had the time to listen to Pidge's crazy stories about their current mark, who was quite possibly the world's most stupid prince.Keith didn't want any of that to change.But then he got the orders todo his jobonce again, and he was forced to realize that something was going to have to give.It was just a matter of what, orwho.





	Lily of the Valley

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Blaine here, with Que, of course! We've been working on this one for a couple of weeks now, and we finally pushed out the first chapter. Like most of the stuff we write, this is gonna be a long, bumpy ride! We will post warnings and more tags as they come, but for nooooow, please enjoy this new fic, courtesy of us!!
> 
> Merci~

“And then the guy damn near twirls.   _ Twirls, _ man.”

The snicker that erupted from the noirette was so very uncharacteristic of him, but how could he  _ not _ let out at least a little bit of a laugh when his friend was telling him yet another story about the dorkish royal they were keeping tabs on?

“And then he falls over,” he guessed, almost like he was goading this man he’d never met into continuing to be adeptly ridiculous. “Right?”

Pidge thrust their hands into their mop of blonde hair and hopped off of the couch the two were sitting on.  “Oh, even  _ better _ !  He ran into a chair and toppled over it, landing on the other side and just sat there and grinned at me.   _ Like he meant to do it! _ ”  Pidge let out a loud groan of some kind and thumped back onto the couch.  “I can’t handle this guy, Keith! It’s like everything he does is a punchline to a joke!”

Keith rolled his eyes at his friend.  This royal couldn’t be that bad, could he?  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” 

“You wanna bet?” Pidge’s head thunked against the pillows that were piled next to Keith. “Why don’t  _ you _ watch him for two months.”

“You didn’t  _ have _ to be the one to take the job,” Keith pointed out, unperturbed. “We have other people who could handle a three month stake out.” Pidge lifted their head just enough to give the noirette an evil eye.

“Says the one who  _ highly recommended _ I take this assignment. I oughtta make you kill him instead.” Slipping off of the couch and onto the floor once more, they wailed, “If I have to hear him flirt with one more person, I will  _ literally _ hurt something.”

The noirette let out another snicker and settled back into the pile of pillows that took over more than half of the couch.  They were sitting in the common room of the main guild house, and Keith wasn’t sure  _ when _ exactly all these pillows had shown up.

Reaching out a hand, Keith tugged lightly at a lock of blonde hair.  “You don’t mean that, Pidge. You like spending time with the guy, admit it.”

There was a snort from where Pidge sat on the floor and they pushed their glasses up onto the top of their head, causing the blonde’s bangs to stick up in an odd fashion.  “You say that now, but spend a day with the guy and you’ll see what I mean.” The smaller of the two did a weird “grabby hands” motion and groaned. “Its like anything that  _ breathes _ is a free target for that...that…”

“Flirt?”

“THAT!” Pidge yelled as they sprung to their feet again, spinning around to grab at Keith’s collar.  “He even flirted with  _ me _ , Keith.  ME!” The small blonde shook the noirette a little before releasing yet another groan.  

_ The kid speaks in snorts and groans, I swear _ , Keith thought as he watched Pidge finally let go of his now stretched out collar and pace around the room again.

“He wouldn’t actually flirt with  _ anything,” _ Keith reasoned easily, blowing off the over exaggeration of his friend and colleague. “And come on, he’s not the first person who’s tried to flirt with you. Don’t act like it  _ doesn’t _ happen.”

“Oh, you think you’re so impervious to him?” Pidge asked, getting a finger in Keith’s face which he delicately pushed away. “Spend one afternoon with him and don’t get hit on, I dare you!”

“I’ll  _ actually _ hit him back,” Keith countered, crossing his arms. “I don’t care;  he’s a mark.” Shrugging, he said, “Just get the job done and don’t… Take it so personally... or something.”

“Easy for you to say, sitting there without anything to do,” Pidge grumbled, spinning around and pacing once more. It had been a long time since Keith had seen them get so worked up over something, and he would have been lying if he said he didn’t find it highly entertaining. It was Pidge, after all. He would have been hard pressed to find something like this  _ not _ amusing.

“For your information, I always take shorter jobs so I don’t  _ have _ to put up with longterm headaches,” Keith told Pidge cooly. “Maybe you should do the same.”

Throwing up their hands, the blonde paced over to the table in the middle of the room and snatched up a cup they had left there over an hour ago, the drink having been forgotten once they had started their rant about the Princel.  

“Keith, I’m an informant.  You’re the assassin.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Informants don’t  _ get _ shorter jobs.  Information gathering isn’t a short term job.  It takes  _ time _ to get your target comfortable enough with you to tell you things!”

Rolling his eyes again, Keith stood up and took three long strides over to the table as well, laying eyes on the fruit bowl at the center of it.  He hadn’t actually  _ eaten _ anything since the day before.  As soon as he had gotten back from making a delivery for their cook, he’d passed out and the next thing he knew, Pidge was shaking him awake on the couch, ready to rant.  Selecting one of the pears that sat in the bowl, he used the hem of his shirt to wipe the fruit down, just in case there was some dirt on it, and took a big bite.

“Or you could just, like, torture them for info.  Lots of informants do that,” Keith offered through a mouthful of pear.

“That isn’t how I do things, Keith, and you know it.”  Pidge lightly punched the noirette in the arm, gulping down what was left of their drink.  “Gotta head out again. I only get a small reprieve from Mr. Flirts-A-Lot per day, plus its gonna be busy since there’s this big event happening at the castle tonight..”

“Hey, if you want a rest, he could just have an accident,” Keith suggested, entirely unserious but willing to suggest it. “There are an awful lot of-”

Pidge cut him off. “No.” For someone he’d been ranting about just a moment ago, they looked deadly serious now. “Keith, if you met him... Look, he’s an idiot, but don’t kill him.”

Keith held up his hands in lazy surrender before nibbling on the edges of his pear. The gritty, yet sweet texture slipped down his throat satisfyingly, and he almost closed his eyes at the taste.  _ Ah, I never have time to eat enough. _ “I wasn’t planning on it Pidge, but come on, try to survive this without exploding every time I’m within earshot.”

Of course, they knew just as well as he did that Keith enjoyed their stories about the royal, but his point had been made.  _ Do what you need to do, get out, don’t bellyache like that’ll change a thing. _ Pidge nodded once. “Yeah, just one more month. That’s it.”

Then they left, and the room descended into silence. Keith didn’t really mind; he just continued devouring his fruit as he considered Pidge’s mark. Despite only knowing what Pidge had told him about, he thought the prince sounded pretty decent, if an idiot. But then, who wasn’t at times? He was just goofy because he didn’t have any reason to worry about surviving.

Yeah, that made sense.  This guy wasn’t like Keith.  He didn’t grow up on the streets, never knowing where his next meal would come from, never knowing if that day would be his last…

Keith suddenly shook his head, trying to dislodge that thread of thought.  He didn’t need to go down that road right then. Or ever, really. That time was over, and there was no reason to dwell on it.

Sighing, the noirette discarded the core of his pear and attempted to shake the sticky juice left over from the fruit off his hand.  It, of course, wasn’t enough. Pulling a face at the awkward feeling the seaped between his fingers, Keith stepped back to and around the couch, ready to go find the kitchen so he could at least wash his hands.

As Keith walked through the halls of the main guild house, his shoes made soft  _ woosh _ sounds on the carpet.  In the past few years, more and more interior improvements had been made to the house.  It seemed like after he and Pidge had joined the assassin’s guild, it had begun to come out of its depression.  It was as if the two brought good fortune upon the guild.

That had been over five years ago, if Keith remembered correctly.  He turned the corner and took the stairs down two at a time to reach the hall that led to the kitchen.  The two had been in a rough spot, and were offered jobs with the guild. They were starving, homeless. How could they not accept?

Killing people, for him, and watching them, for Pidge, wasn’t bad enough to turn down food. Keith had his pride, and he wasn’t stupid. Besides, the guild was as safe as he could be. And yeah, that wasn’t very safe, but he was alive. And if staying that way made him a bad person, then so be it. He didn’t particularly care.

After all, when you lived on the streets, there were worse things than killing. Heck, being an assassin was honorable if you worked for the right people. It carried  _ prestige. _ Keith didn’t much care for glory or renown, but he could understand respect. Murder wasn’t murder in most people’s eyes if you had a shiny badge to go with it. He wasn’t so stupid as to delude himself into thinking he was a good person, but he wasn’t so self deprecating as to hate himself for staying alive.

Wandering into the kitchen, Keith considered how long it had been since his last job and frowned.  It had been about three weeks. It wasn’t that he  _ liked _ it, but if you weren’t useful to the guild, they didn’t exactly keep you around. On one hand, he knew he was useful, on the other, was he useful enough?  _ I should probably talk to someone about it.   _ Sometimes he wished he was better at gathering info, because jobs like that were always available.  Take Pidge for example. They were never hard pressed for jobs. 

Believe it or not, assassination requests weren’t that common.  They were dangerous, and took physical skill. Info gathering was easier, physically, and far safer than any job Keith could have gotten.  But...was any job with the thieves guild actually  _ safe _ ?

Something or someone poked the wrinkles between his brows.  Crossing his eyes to try and get a better look at the thing, Keith realized that it was the handle of a wooden spoon.

“If you keep frowning like that, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

Struggling to focus on the person holding the spoon, Keith stepped backwards slightly.  “Oh, hey, Hunk.”

The larger brunet man rolled his eyes and turned back around.  “What’s buggin’ ya, Keith?”

Keith shrugged.  “Nothing. What makes you think something’s wrong?” It wasn’t like he’d  _ said _ anything.

Hunk looked over his shoulder, but kept walking, making his way back over to his ovens.  “You’re brooding.”

“According to you and Pidge, that’s all I ever do,” Keith grumbled, following the cook.  The noirette watched as Hunk set about to mix up another batch of...some kind of pastry. Hunk was  _ always _ baking.  Even when he was cooking regular meals, he usually had muffins or cookies baking at the same time.  

Hunk raised an eyebrow, his tawny eyes full of suspicion.  “Keith, we’ve been friends for…” The larger man paused. “How long was it again?”

Keith’s own dark brows knitted together as he answered with, “Five years, give or a take a few months?”

The cook pointed the spoon at Keith again, the batter dripping off of it to land silently on the counter.  “Exactly, and in that time, have I ever been wrong in deciphering when you’re brooding as a hobby or brooding because there’s something bothering you?”

Keith huffed and shifted his eyes.  _ I’m not brooding, _ he thought, even though he knew Hunk had a point.  _ I’m just thinking. _ “How long is Pidge going to be watching their current target?” he asked, not so subtly trying to change the subject.

One of Hunk’s eyebrows traveled up towards his hairline. “As long as they get paid to do it.” Which was obvious, but it still dragged his thoughts back around to Pidge’s charge and the many,  _ many _ stories he’d been inundated with over the past couple months. Noticing the change in his expression, Hunk slowly said, “You know, Keith, usually you’re  _ happy _ when Pidge gets a relatively safe job like this.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy,” Keith instantly fired back, rankling at the insinuation that he’d be  _ upset _ about Pidge’s fortune. “I’m just curious, okay?”

A soft look of understanding came over Hunk’s face, as if he’d solved a mystery. “Ah, I see.”

“What?” Keith asked again, genuinely confused.

“Nothing,” Hunk answered infuriatingly, waving a large, flour covered hand. Offhandedly, he commented, “Pidge sure talks a lot about this guy, don’t they?”

Glad the conversation had moved on, Keith relaxed slightly and snorted at his friend’s words.  “Talk? I think you mean  _ rant, _ Hunk. He drives Pidge up the wall.” Which was probably an understatement at this point.

“Don’t pretend you don’t find their stories funny,” Hunk chuckled, smiling bemusedly.

Keith found himself laughing as well. “Did you know that he  _ twirls _ in his cape?” the noirette asked, his lips quirking up as he once again imagined the scene that Pidge had described. “I totally called that one.”

“Did he do something similar last week, when he decided to try on his sister’s dress?” Hunk asked, stopping in his constant stirring for just a moment to grab some kind of spice from his left.  

A bark of laughter left Keith’s throat so suddenly that it caused him to cough slightly afterwards.  “Yeah! Yeah, he did! From what Pidge said, he did it to mess with his sister. Like, he had even put on a wig and yelled, ‘LOOK!  YOU HAVE A SISTER NOW, AREN’T YOU HAPPY!?’ And I guess she smacked him hard enough that he fell over.”

Hunk visibly tried to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in his chest.  “Now, that had to be one of Pidge’s best stories. They even did the voices!”

“I know!”

The two laughed for a moment, Keith leaned against the wall and Hunk pouring the batter into the muffin tins.  

It was true, Keith was glad that Pidge was safer than they had been in the past.  That castle was even safer than the guild, if Keith was being completely honest. But there was just something about the entire thing that worried him.  He didn’t even completely understand  _ why _ it worried him.  It was just...this nagging feeling in the back of his mind.  

“Oh, hey, Keith,” Hunk suddenly said, drawing the noirette out of his thoughts.  When he looked back up at the cook, he saw that Hunk was pulling his bandana off of his head to wipe at the back of his neck.  “I got a message for you. Totally forgot that I was supposed to give it to you.”

“Message?” Keith wondered, uncrossing his arms and stepping around the counter to where Hunk usually kept the messages for the rest of the guild.  Not only what his friend the cook, but he was also, in a way, their postman. “From who? Pidge?”

Hunk shook his head.  “Nope. From the Guild Leader.  The delivered it a few hours ago.  It’s on the top shelf.” The cook tied his bandana back around his forehead and went back to putting the muffin tins into the oven.  

Keith felt around the shelf until his fingers touched the only paper that was there.  Pulling the message down, the noirette unfolded the paper and skimmed lightly over the words.

“New job?” Hunk asked, walking over to Keith and looking at the note over his shoulder as he wiped his hands on a dishcloth.

“Yep, and it looks like I’m going to a party.”

**Author's Note:**

> Now was that a start to a fic, or what? This legit took us weeks to finish. It took us a week just to plan the thing. We really hope you guys liked it! There is definitely more to come, so don't worry! Now I'm going to jump into work, have a great night everyone
> 
> Blaine~


End file.
